


Phobos: Origin

by MarrowMeister



Series: Symbiote Origins [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Death, Food, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), Modern Era, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other, Relationship(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarrowMeister/pseuds/MarrowMeister
Summary: Damien is my100% complete self insert. He is me. His home is my home, his body is my body, and his life... is my life. Follow the short story when Damien finally meets his other half that you will come to know as Styx. Together they form two halves on one whole being you will come to know as Phobos. Styx is not a monster, at least in the metaphorical sense. They are however, a creature from another planet who at one point came to be paired with one of history's greatest warriors and eventually believed to be the physical incarnation of an ancient greek god.This is the origin of our very own symbiote, Styx. I assure you that although it is a little slow to start, the payoff is well worth the experience.If you have any questions I would LOVE to discuss this further.This is part of an ongoing series and I assure you this is only the beginning.Follow me on twitter @MeisterMarrow





	Phobos: Origin

**Author's Note:**

> This used to be known as Visage: Origin  
'Visage' was always a placeholder name, and the origin has now been properly updated with an entirely new segment.   
The symbiote's name is Styx, but upon bonding with a host the two as a unity identify as Phobos.   
Styx + Damien = Phobos

Chloe purred happily from the attention; her owner was often busy throughout the day. Damien scratched the female tabby softly behind her ears and along her immaculate bright white fur. The animal drooled in bliss, droplets of saliva falling into the brown couch she stood on and absorbing into the cloth. Damien continued petting the feline until he spotted her whip her head around in an attempt to bite. He pulled away in reflex and paused for a moment, completely aware of her standard behavior. The animal mewled and pushed against Damien’s resting knee before spontaneously exploding into movement and running to the opposite end of the room, a subtle thud sounding as she connected with the ground after dropping off the sofa. Damien sighed as he heard the squishing sound of his cat chewing her soft canned food out of the nearby bowl. Her random activity and the inherent confusing body language of felines occasionally stumping him. Damien stared at the television screen and the black glass stared back. There was a verbal groan as he reached forward and grasped at the black rectangular remote, finally deciding to turn the device on and at least make an attempt to relax after his time in class all day. The television flickered to life and the glowing white screen displayed an error message stating the lack of input. Damien quickly flicked his eyes around to the usual spots he placed his video game console controller, the gaming system being his only form of entertainment or video streaming. He felt momentary frustration when he spotted the sky blue plastic controller just out of reach. Damien threw his weight forward from his sitting position and launched into a standing position, the blood in his body struggling to fight gravity as he felt momentary light headedness along with spotty vision. This was not out of the ordinary considering his mediocre circulation and exceptionally tall height.

Damien stumbled for but a moment before regaining his balance and carefully shimmying between the couch and small coffee table in the condensed living space. He stepped behind the couch, just brushing by the built-in kitchenette and passing the porcelain white kitchen sink. The overall spacing of the cottage was tight. Not that he could complain, his current living situation was something most people his age would dream of. Although he would much rather live independently from his parents, the small cottage behind the main house rent-free was nothing short of worth the wealth of frustration from dealing with his parents so often. He continued shuffling past the oven a microwave which read 11:02pm and reached the small open space between the stainless-steel refrigerator that was clearly a hand-me-down and the foot of the king-sized bed. Damien continued passed the end of the kitchenette and approached the left side of his bed. The completely unmade appearance of the sheets and comforter just thrown about reminding him of how much more important function was to him over aesthetic. His muscles protested as he shuffled forward, the very minimal effort still vastly more than he wanted to exert. Damien sat on the side of his bed, his feet resting on the small off-white fuzzy rug besides the nightstand. He lifted his left foot, the cloth of his pants pulling against his knee as he brought his leg into a cross. He tugged lightly at the black shoelace of his boot and pushed the footwear off, an auditory ‘pop’ sounding as the shoe separated from his sock covered foot. He shifted his leg off of his knee and performed the same action with the opposite leg. He tossed the pair of boots a few feet and they landed beside the nightstand with a ‘clack’ of hard rubber against tile. His black work boots were part of his required uniform for his Emergency Medical Technician class. Damien sat at the side of the bed for a few moments more, recovering any amount of energy he could before forcing himself to remove the rest of his uniform. Chloe pulled herself on to the bed and brushed her face against Damien’s resting hand. She may not have a lot of room to run around in, but Damien was more than content with the way he treated her in her older age. He ran his hand across her head once more, the soft fur exuding a calming energy as she pushed her cheeks and whiskers against his skin; The wetness of her nose leaving a small dot of moisture just at the tip of his finger.

Damien tugged at the bottom of his light blue shirt and untucked it from the lining of his navy-blue cargo pants. He pulled the bottom of the polo up and over his head, the friction keeping it partially stuck to the long-sleeved black shirt he wore beneath. Damien separated the two shirts and tossed them to the floor before standing up and fumbling with his belt. The silver clip requiring a bit of finesse to unclasp. He felt a drastic decrease in pressure around his waist as the clothing loosened, the cargo pants sliding down and laying awkwardly around his feet. Damien stepped out from the pants and lightly pulled his flamingo patterned underwear up an inch or two. He kicked the outfit into a small pile before bending over with an unpleasant groan in order to grab the clothing and toss it into his laundry hamper. Damien fought the constant feeling of physical exhaustion he felt. It wasn’t so much enough to be debilitating but it was more than an inconvenience. He pushed himself forward and mentally debated taking a shower. He knew he should, but he knew if he did, he’d end up being awake for several more hours and he just really wanted to get to sleep, or at least to lay down. He walked across the room once more, passing by the refrigerator and kitchenette, squeezing by the couch as he did so. He turned right down a short hallway, no more than a few feet long with a white door at the end and an open room to the right. He stepped into the bathroom and flipped the switch to his left, a massive quantity of light flooding the area from the ceiling. Damien was aware that bathrooms were typically brighter than other rooms. He stepped in front of the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, it was messy and still growing out since his last haircut a few months prior. He brushed it away from his eyes as he shed a few dirty blonde hairs into the sink below. Damien didn’t have a great sense of self confidence and wasn’t entirely happy with his own body, but he didn’t really actively dislike it. He did have positive feelings about his eyes, he leaned forward examined his iris. His pupils dilated as he moved closer to the reflective surface and their blackness complimented his lightning blue irises. He scratched a bit of dry skin from the tip of his nose and leaned back once more, grasping the four bottles sitting to the left of the counter. He poured one pill of each bottle into each hand and chuckled at the image, a 22-year-old man with enough medication to compare to a retiree. He did note that the medications weren’t particularly important; one bottle being for his depression medication while two others were for vitamin deficiencies, and the third a melatonin to aid his insomnia. He closed the bottles and reached for the toothbrush and the half-emptied tube of toothpaste. Damien ran the frazzled bristles of the brush under the tap water before squeezing a pearl of paste out. He brought the plastic stick to his mouth and attempted to reach all 32 of his teeth without irritating his gums too much. He spit the foamed saliva into the sink and ran the water once more, allowing the cold liquid to wash the fluid down the drain and rinse the bristles off. Damien placed the brush into the placeholder beside the sink and poured a lid-full of blue fluid from the tall bottle on the countertop before swirling a bit of the mouthwash around and spitting it down the drain. The enjoyable minty flavor paired with a minor burning in his mouth. He exhaled deeply and ran his hands through the water, splashing some against his face and turning the faucet off before rubbing the towel against his skin. _Not quite a shower_ he thought as he was extremely aware of the slight stickiness and general feeling of uncleanliness across his skin. Damien stretched briefly and stepped to the toilet, briefly pulling his underwear down and draining his bladder. He finally finished his nightly ritual and flicked the bathroom switch into the off position. He walked past the kitchenette for the third time that night and opened the armoire that faced his bed, just beside the refrigerator. He reached in the dark wooden cabinet and chose the two articles of clothing at the top of the right most pile. A completely white cotton shirt and a pair of black cotton pants that had grown soft from years of use. He pulled the clothing on and decided to relax for another hour or so until the melatonin he took kicked in and forces him to sleep.

He grabbed the video game controller from across the room and plopped down where he had been sitting just minutes earlier in full school uniform. The console hummed to life and pinged as the dashboard filled the television screen. He scrolled through the available apps he had downloaded, not having the energy to play any games that required his full attention. He clicked the green ‘A’ button of his controller and began to peruse through the available shows and films on the streaming service. After selecting a familiar show that didn’t require much direct attention but he still enjoyed for the background noise. The show ran in the background as he briefly looked around for his phone which dinged and glowed just as he began to look, as if it knew. He picked the plastic rectangle up and unlocked it with his thumbprint, opening up the chatroom service he used to regularly talk to the few friends he had. The show continued running in the background as he briefly scrolled through the channel, not much activity happening at the time since the most active member lived in Germany and wouldn’t be up for another hour or so. Damien continued jumping through random apps on his phone and scrolling through several social media apps, until he registered a lack of sound. He paused and looked up at the screen, a somewhat passive aggressive message asking,

“are you still there?” Damien took that as a sign that he should retire for the night, his body agreeing with a yawn. He used the ergonomic controller to turn the gaming console off and the television remote to power off the device. Damien stood up for what he hoped was the final time for the night and maneuvered to his bed on the other side of the room, finally letting gravity take effect as he fell to the mattress. He shifted to his right side and used the nightstand cable to begin charging his phone which dinged happily with the power source. The bed was a king-sized mattress but it only barely extended past the tip of his feet, if he shifted just right his toes would push the sheets out from the their tucked position and poke out to the cold air. Damien stared at his phone, constantly changing positions every few minutes when his body demanded that he was no longer comfortable. He laid with his face flat against the mattress and dangled an arm off the edge of the bed which easily touched the floor even though the mattress was supported by a frame a couple feet upwards. There were occasionally creaks and random sounds, the room settling, the refrigerator buzzing or clanking as it created more ice cubes, his air conditioning unit humming; A more unique and concerning sound than usual caught his attention in the pitch-black room. He paused and listened attentively for the source of the disturbance, having been well aware of all the different noise cues his room normally made. A sort of groaning or straining of materials emanated from what he assumed was below his bed. Not particularly loud, nor particularly threatening. Damien flicked the LED light of his phone to life, creating a cone of light that substituted for a proper flashlight. Damien felt a minor pain between his eyes, the bright light in the complete darkness forcing his pupils to adjust rapidly. He was well aware of his sensitivity to light, recalling a hilarious moment when he first visited his ophthalmologist to acquire prescription glasses.

“Are you on something right now?” the doctor had asked, staring into Damien’s pupils that were likely the size of dimes, struggling to constrict properly in response to the light.   
“Cause like,” he paused, bringing the examination tool across his face to examine his other eyeball   
“Your pupils are fucking huge.” The casual tone was to be expected as the man was a family friend, and Damien had laughed before spouting a small rant about how almost comically clean he was, having never done any drugs of any kind before and rarely if ever even drinking alcohol.

The miniature headache throbbed for another few seconds as the darkness of the room that Damien had been able to see through just moments ago became opaque. He shined the light across the bedroom from his huddled position up against the headboard of his bedframe and surveyed the room. Nothing looked out of place, a set of golden circles reflected light back before blinking unhappily and returning to a resting position.

“Sorry Chloe” Damien muttered out as an unhappy ‘meow’ responded. Damien knew there was nothing in the room, but also was well aware that if he didn’t at least attempt to scan the area his brain would concoct all sorts of worst possible scenarios. The unfamiliar creak sounded once more, again not being particularly loud but clearly coming from inside the cottage. Damien grunted as he moved from the comfortable position he had been in and sort of threw his upper body over the edge of the bed. His head brushed against the floor as his legs anchored his body from falling completely out of the bed. He shined the light around once more before bringing it to where he suspected the culprit may lie. Beneath the bed was just more tiling that matched the rest of his room; however he had found the source of the peculiarity. A small area of tiling, just beneath the center of the mattress and likely no more than a foot across, had bulged upwards. “uh” Damien uttered unsurely.

“mother is gonna be pissseedddd” he mumbled as the floor pulsed and groaned once more before settling completely. Damien knew he had one more task to perform and scuttled out of bed, rolling onto the floor, the two-foot fall from the mattress to the tiled floor forcing a cough and grunt out. _That seemed like a better idea in my head, _he thought as he forced himself under the mattress, just to check on the minor destruction. The bedframe prevented him from pushing his entire body beneath the structure, but he was just able enough to get a decent look at the bulging tile. He poked it with a finger first, the rigidity of the most likely ceramic material still fully intact. _Just gonna assume its water or some shit, _he thought about the possibility that some piping had broken and flooded beneath the structure. Damien forced himself out from beneath the bed and pulled his body back into the safety and comfort of the cotton sheets. Damien’s last thoughts before passing out for the night were how he was going to explain to his irrational mother how it was in no way his fault that the floor decided to deform.

______________________________________________

Damien felt his brain sort of ‘turn on’ before his eyes opened. Waking up was not one of his strong suits. He exhaled deeply and shifted to his side, feeling a clearly different material against his skin. He opened his eyes awkwardly and took note of the fact that he was laying on his couch and not his bed. _Uh._ Chloe jumped on to the couch, not seeming to care that her owner was having a momentary crisis regarding his current situation.

“MEOW” she pushed her head against Damien with minor force, clearly angry that he had the audacity to consider unconsciousness a valid reason for not having fed her yet. Damien ran his hand across her head and pulled away rapidly as she shot forward for a bite, her rapid attitude changes never ceasing to frustrate him. Damien sat stunned for another moment or two before shifting to a sitting position and verbally exclaiming-

“UHHHH.” In minor panic as he noticed his outfit. His arms covered by long black sleeves, and legs by knee-length white shorts. One of many similar articles of clothing he owned but definitely not what he had gone to sleep in. He surveyed the room and spotted the tossed aside undershirt and pajama pants that were now laying on the floor just in front of the bedframe. Damien knew full well that he was not a sleepwalker, and was in fact an exceptionally heavy silent sleeper, which is what was making the current situation all the more disturbing. He arose from his seat and brushed his clothing downwards, removing the minor wrinkles, the material of the clothing feeling slightly unconventional; perhaps a polyester cotton blend with a bit of spandex. Damien stood up and looked around his room, his energy levels much higher than they typically were which he attributed to the bizarre start of his morning. He awkwardly walked between the couch and kitchenette like usual and approached the cat food bowl that sat near the side of the bed he normally did not sleep on. Chloe chirped happily at the prospect of eating, having nothing to do besides eat and lay around all day in her hard-working life. Damien peeled the plastic gallon Ziploc bag apart and poured a handful of food into her bowl, the excitement of the cat dropping to zero the moment she realized she wasn’t being served the soft canned food she desired. Damien checked her water bowl to assure its cleanliness and moved on, not needing to worry about dressing himself for the day as he had woken up in what he likely would’ve put on anyways. He strolled over to the armoire which had been hanging slightly open and closed the door. Damien mentally brushed off the bizarre start to his morning and reveled in the thought that he had an entirely free weekend before him, having just finished his school week and having Fridays off. His Emergency Medical Technician class was finishing in less than a week but he felt more than confident enough to take most of the weekend off from studying, his grade being one of the highest in the class and his academic knowledge being more than sufficient for the final exam.

Damien ignored the discontent mewling of his cat and her demands for soft food and walked into the bathroom. He flipped the light switch on, which was generally unneeded due to the generous amount of light flowing in from behind the closed blinds in the main room; the sun having enough force to provide adequate light even when he clearly didn’t want it. He stepped in front of the mirror and grasped the plastic handle of his toothbrush just as he had the prior night and performed the same ritual, leaving the medications he normally consumed for the later night rather than the morning. Damien spat the foaming liquid out and washed his mouth with the tap water before throwing water across his face and deeply scrubbing with a dry towel. Damien reveled in the perkiness he felt, usually having to struggle to perform basic tasks. _Guess a good night’s sleep can do wonders _he mentally joked, imagining himself sleepwalking in full casual wear. Damien glanced into the mirror once more just to see if he had managed to clean the dried skin off the sides of his nose with the towel. His normally dirty blond hair now sporadically speckled with a few white hairs and a few black hairs, but still primarily its original color. He looked up again and violently shook a hand across his scalp in hopes the oddly colored hairs would fall into the bowl of the sink to no avail. He began to reexamine his physical characteristics. Damien scrunched his eyes and focused, taking note of his bizarre hair coloring; It was as if his blonde hair had begun to fall out and be replaced with black and white ones of the exact same length.

“UHH” he felt himself panic once more as he had when he first awoke, pushing his face extremely close to the mirror and searching for any other changes. His irises stared back at him, what had previously been two solid azure irises were now somewhat disconcerting. His right iris was a very dark grey, almost leaning towards charcoal; his other a very light grey, almost leaning towards silver. His blue eyes had always had the capability to shift to a greyish blue depending on the lighting, but he was well aware that heterochromia was considered a genetic abnormality and was not something that could just HAPPEN.

“UHHHHHHHHHHHH” he exclaimed and sat back from the mirror, feeling the beginnings of a cold sweat as he forced a calming wave across his body. _It’s okay, its okay_ he coached himself, looking back into the mirror at the eyes that felt ever so unfamiliar. Small changes he thought, looking at his hair and eyes. _Small changes, nothing that can’t be explained_ he brushed off the fallen hairs, thinking about how stress could cause white hairs and how his home life was stressing him out way more than he thought possible. He exhaled and inhaled shakily, staring at his new eyes and hair once more. He pulled up the sleeves on his shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin somewhat through what he imagined was minor friction. Damien flipped his arm around, looking all over for any bizarre signs that would alarm him. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out, he exhaled calmly. Breathe, just breathe he placed his index and middle finger together onto his left arm, just below his hand on the left side of his wrist in an attempt to count and slow his pulse. Damien felt nothing and shifted his fingers once more, searching for the sweet spot where he would be able to find his radial pulse bound through his skin as the arteries thumped. He rolled his eyes and shifted to his other hand, bringing his watch and fingers close to his right hand, once more searching for the pulse. He shifted his two fingers again and grunted unhappily at his inability to perform such a basic task. Damien then brought the same two fingers up against his neck, the soft and tender muscles just below the corner of his jaw allowing for a much easier pulse acquisition. He pushed his fingers into the soft tissue and shifted a couple of times, searching for the much stronger carotid pulse which typically never evaded him. He fought the minor panic that refused to leave him as he realized he couldn’t find his that pulse either.

He nervously laughed “what the fuckkkk” and hung on to the words, giving up on trying to calm himself effectively. _Its cool, we’re cool, we’re good_ he told himself. Damien walked to the couch he had woken up on and plopped down, staring at the powered off television screen. He patted his thighs and knees awkwardly as he struggled to decide what his next action would be. It seemed as if his body made the choice for him as he suddenly became aware of how much he needed to drain his bladder. Damien stood and approached the bathroom that he had left just moments before but with more purpose this time. He stood in front of the porcelain bowl and reached for the button and zipper that held the clothing closed but was surprised to find nothing, just a continuation of the clothing. He tugged at the waistline and attempted to slide the shorts downward, but it was almost as if they were fighting him.

[No.] A voice spoke, as if someone was not so much as talking to him, but inside of him. Damien jumped in fear and surprise, his already weak bladder causing a minor leak into his clothing.  
“Shit shit shi-“he scrambled around awkwardly, flailing in a futile attempt to find the source of the voice. He became acutely and uncomfortably aware of his pants tightening just enough to squeeze, his shirt doing the same; as if the clothing was combatting any attempt at removal.   
[Stay on.] the voice told him in a stern yet unthreatening tone. Between the intense need to pee and the confused fear that was dancing throughout his body Damien responded in a shaky voice.  
“I just need to pee man, c’mon what the fuck-“ he practically begged as the voice responded once more.   
[waste disposal?] and Damien felt the material loosen around his groin yet remain just as snug around his knees and upper body. Damien continued dancing around and finally tugged the shorts down, exposing himself to the porcelain throne. The ever-cathartic feeling of his bladder emptying combined with the sound of the liquid splashing allowed his coherent thoughts to finally return.   
[complete?] the voice inquired as the makeshift clothing returned itself to its original position, posing as regular shorts. Damien couldn’t help but cringe uncomfortably at the unfamiliar sensation. Within less than a second Damien’s brain registered what had just happened and that the voice was coming from some sort of sentient pair of shorts and a shirt. There was a moment of clarity as he realized that he was not in fact feeling the sheer panic and confusion he should have been, an artificial calmness keeping his reaction grounded.  
[No panic. Friend]  
“oh, you’re a friend that’s nice now just real quick can you explain what the fuck is going on thanks” Damien shot out in a nearly monotone voice without so much as a pause between words. He felt the clothing constrict and relax uncomfortably once more as it squirmed, making him wince suddenly.   
“would you please cut it out” He shot out once more as the clothing finally settled into an inconspicuous calmness.   
“alright now tell me what the fuck-“the material shifted into a much more liquid like state as it disappeared beneath his skin, leaving him completely aware of his utterly naked body suddenly. A cool breeze from the air conditioning along with the unsettling feeling that his body was absorbing rather than excreting a fluid caused him to yelp in awkward shock. Damien quickly snatched the nearby towel off the rack and covered himself, not enjoying the feeling of vulnerability.   
“okay please just kind of like,” he wiggled   
“just tell me what you ar-“ Damien felt his head pound as a headache exploded throughout his entire skull.  
“heghahh” the incoherent sounds poured from his mouth as he felt like his the slab of jelly he called a brain pushed against his skull. A globule of drool poured out from the corner of his mouth as his legs began to buckle before all sensation returned to normal within an instant. Black spots clouded his vision before dissipating.   
“I’d like to never do that again Styx.” Damien paused from the statement, suddenly becoming aware of the name he had spoken.   
“ah. I understand” He uttered now hyperaware of the new memories that had wormed into his synapses.   
“okay so your name is Styx... Like... The River Styx?" Damien asked with the slightest hint of confusion to a concept he only barely understood. His head threatened to explode with pain once more as more and more neurons began to fire and create entirely new pathways from nothing. The sentient ball of progenitor cells forcing new memories and life into the enclosed space of his skull, essentially cleaving the possibility of entire conversations of clarification down to just a few moments of understanding. Damien could feel that he still didn't have the full picture but also knew that he didn't want to deal with the pain involved in asking for a deeper understanding.

"Now that you’ve bonded to me. You’re… a Klyntar but also _from _Klyntar. Wait I’m sorry what” he stumbled along this new data that felt more like the recovery of forgotten memories than new information.   
“that’s like saying, oh I’m Earthian from Earth” he mocked with a snort. There was no response but rather a mental nudge towards the rest of the implanted memories.   
“oh, oh. Okay I understand. So you essentially refer to yourselves as symbiotic creatures and you’re from anther planet. Wait, but don’t y’all need a host to survive… doesn’t that technically make you parasitic?” The word triggered something within his biological partner. Somewhere between anger and simple displeasure. No words were spoken but the sentiment was expressed. “s-sorry.” He uttered.   
“so what exactly do you want with me?” he inquired before blurting out  
"Don’t Do The Memory Thing Again!” Damien felt something crawl beneath his skin, and absence of sensation before his head exploded in pain once more, thousands of synapses firing off at once and being assaulted with even more newly formed neural pathways.

He recovered awkwardly, leaning against the bathroom counter for support as the pain subsided rather quickly.   
“is it bad that I feel like by doing that you’re sort of cutting out the middle man of actually developing any sort of rapport or relationship with me.” [understand] the symbiote stated factually.   
“yes I understand you fuckin goober. I’ve been chosen by a wonderfully powerful alien being to be a walking meat sack for it to feed off of…” Damien pulled himself into a fully standing position and approached the mirror once more.   
“show me.” He stated blandly, dropping the towel that had been wrapped around his waist.

A peculiar sensation enveloped him as the alien goo spread out from within. The noir aesthetic of the creature centralized itself in his torso but was not limited by any means. Damien watched as the two became one and their biology intertwined on a genetic level. The creature pulled itself along every inch of his skin, down the back of his legs and across his feet. Damien outstretched an arm as his fingertips pointed themselves into talon like replicants. His vision sharpened, as if every detail of the room he stood in suddenly became obvious, every speck of dust, every half-smeared fingerprint upon the mirror surface. Even the air itself tasted cleaner, no longer the stale gas that it had been. Damien flexed, rolling his shoulders forward and back to their resting position. The symbiotic skin moved with him, not stretching in the same manner as a skintight fabric would but rather simply mimicking the human skin beneath. He had a near full understanding of how he believed the symbiote worked, its wants and needs, its fundamental biology.

Damien examined his body, no longer just his own.   
“this is.” He closed his fist tightly,   
“this is better.” He spoke with an unnatural calmness that reassured him in a mysterious way. His thoughts floated in several different directions as he stood there in silence, not quite processing the binary body he now coinhabited.   
“this feels right, but also... Unfinished?” Damien spotted movement in the corner of his eye, not even needing to turn to know the source was his feline companion.   
“our connection goes both ways” he prodded his other mentally   
“does it not?” His secondary skin wiggled in agreeance and Damien felt a previous mental block he had been unaware of suddenly disappear.   
“look man, if this is gonna work, we’re gonna have to trust each other. You’ve seen my thoughts, you know I’m too existentially lonely to turn something like this down. I may not have prodded yours yet but from what you’ve shown me, you weren’t gonna live a whole lot longer trapped under there.”

A conscious flow of thoughts began spreading and intermingling with his own; no, they were his own. It suddenly became somewhat difficult to tell what were his own independent thoughts and memories from his other’s. Damien peered deeply into the mirror, a clean line separating his left from his right stood out as a primary visual culprit. His somewhat thin body still human in appearance overall, as if he was wearing some sort of body suit, yet noticeably more organic. Damien traced along his left side, the solid black skin intermittently interrupted by the occasional vein of opaque white. The thick strands of the opposing color shifted ever so slightly, never quite appearing to be still. Damien glanced to the same place on his opposing side, which reflected in an exact manner yet a complete negative visually. The solid white skin was interrupted by opaque black veins that shifted in the same living manner as the opposing white ones.   
“Interesting…” he mumbled as he prodded the lens that functioned as his left eye. The white lens appeared almost glowing; _Perhaps some sort of bioluminescence?_ He mentally asked himself. His other eye also appearing symmetrical in its asymmetry. The black lens appeared almost like a void of light, as if the very electromagnetic energy had been absorbed or nullified by its existence.

Damien continued gazing at the new body he had been given, yet still felt acutely aware of the ever so human form beneath.   
“so, my understanding seems to be that you- er- your species is some sort of sentient yet rapidly replicating ball of stem cells. Like, you can just reprogram and replicate yourself to suit any need of any kind. That’s… that’s fucking incredible.” Damien’s skin wiggled, squeezing the host beneath in a manner Damien could describe as excited.   
“oh you like that don’t you” he chuckled   
“well it is. Its like, amazing. I mean, yeah I don’t quite understand you one hundred percent or anything, but I think that this could work. We could work.”  
He extended his hand out until it touched the mirror, palm to palm.   
“just promise me you wont keep any secrets from me, and I’ll do my best to give you whatever you want.”

Damien sat on the floor of the bathroom he had entered earlier in the day. His legs crossed in a somewhat awkward fashion as he meditated, having spent the last few hours strengthening the mental connection between himself and the being who now shared his body.   
“I think I understand now, so like. Okay so like the reason my eyes and hair and shit changed like that was due to the extent of our ‘bond’. Right, so if we had say, had a very weak bond I would be pretty much unaffected but we as a unit wouldn’t be able to work as well. Like, you wouldn’t be able to access my biochemistry and such.” The binary alien squirmed.   
“So by that logic, if we were to say… well. If I were to allow and encourage a deeper bond between us then we would become more in tune, but at the cost of my individuality to myself and possibly my life if we were ever somehow separated.” The alien squirmed once more, Damien had begun to learn the meanings of such small motions.   
“Okay but why don’t you talk, like, I know you can so why not just talk to me like I do to you?” The question went unanswered for a few moments. Damien waited patiently until he heard his other once more [Unpleasant…] The statement echoed through Damien’s mind.   
“It’s, unpleasant for you to talk? Like, it hurts or it’s just not easy to do or…” the multiple possibilities of the meaning rolled around in his brain as Damien’s quiet and muffled speech failed to penetrate the artificial layer of skin that now covered his human mouth.   
“Alright it’s really not that important.” He stated as Damien pulled himself into a standing position.

Damien rarely felt hunger, in the traditional sense at least. He mentally skimmed over some of the many problems he had, specifically about how his stomach almost never complained about its lack of contents. This would sound like a dream to many when in all reality it was nothing more than a giant inconvenience. He recalled the years he spent in university with his now ex-girlfriend who would regularly have to remind him to eat, as he would simply go an entire day without consuming nearly any calories. He had chalked it up to some sort of hormonal imbalance, likely associated with his thyroid; however was very surprised to learn that it was not in fact such a simple answer after several blood tests. The new theory the alien inhabited man held was that it was in all likelihood a psychosomatic symptom of his depression that his low dosage of medication purely could not combat. He had not become especially skinny, but rather about just below average in weight. It was a peculiar mix of oddities that even though he rarely consumed an especially large amount of food, his body did not seem to eat away at itself. That is why it was all the more startling when his stomach rumbled. A deep and primal sound that centered itself within his belly.

Damien felt a mild start at the unfamiliar sensation that he had all but forgotten over the years. The idea of his stomach acid chipping away at the mucosal layer that lined the inner entrails of his stomach seemed to jumpstart a motivation he had not encountered nearly as frequently as he would’ve liked. Damien patted his belly with a hollow thud, his solid black hand making contact just along the split between colors on his body. He strolled out of the bathroom, flicking the switch just before exiting, and approached the stainless-steel fridge. The cold air and sterile fluorescent light held a certain timelessness to it that made one question whether the food inside would be for a midnight snack or a middle of the day lunch. In this unfortunate case however, nothing more than a light blue, plastic pitcher of a somewhat brown liquid stared back at him; accompanied only by one other thing, a single contained of brand name yellow mustard that had likely not even been opened yet. Damien did not usually keep much food in his home, having been living in a small building just in the backyard of his parent’s house. He slept and spent many hours a day there yes, however when it came to the mandatory consumption of meals he would likely be preparing such in the main house for his birth givers. Damien had spent many of his earlier years learning the basics of cooking from his mother, and at some point in time had possibly even surpassed her. The loose agreement he had with his family amounted to that of Damien being required to perform the majority of basic chores in the house, such as cooking dinner each night and shopping for food every weekend, in exchange for living (nearly) undisturbed in the efficiency out back.

Damien snapped back to his current predicament where he was acutely aware of the lack of any sort of sustenance. His stomach complained again, this time louder than before.   
[food. Need food.] his other stated plainly, not so much in a mocking way but more of a reminder, as if it was unfamiliar with whether or not humans could read their own biology.   
“Yes I know, I just, don’t really have anything to eat right now.” Damien felt his skin crawl, almost sag in a silent defeat.   
“no, no St-“ he closed the door, ceasing the flow of cold air,   
“Styx, this is an easy fix.” He stated with certainty. Damien approached the massive rectangular window that took up the entirety of the wall closest to his front door, the blinds were closed as usual. Damien inserted two fingers between the plastic material and peaked just outside. The bright light of the afternoon sun pushed its way inside and forced a squint out of Damien’s inhuman face. The lenses that both covered over his own eyes and somehow functioned as a pair of eyes themselves narrowed in response, a secondary biological defense to the bright light. Damien was generally sensitive to lights, photophobia it was called, a humorous misnomer that at first glance appeared to mean that one feared light when in fact it was a descriptive symptom of sensitivity to light. He sneezed unexpectedly and retracted his fingers, allowing the room to return to its original darkness.   
“Okay, I can go get us some food but this-“ he motioned to his entire body, the alien skin that enveloped him and its binary aesthetic clearly inhuman in appearance   
“-isnt gonna work”. Damien felt the skin begin to fold in on itself, just as it had in reverse the very first time it enveloped him. The goo tugged longingly, as if it wished to remain whole. His fingertips returned to their original pallor as the black and white goo sunk beneath his skin. The first thing Damien noticed was the significant difference in his vision quality. He did wear prescription glasses typically but it was a very minor adjustment, however this went to a whole other level. The entirety of the room and its details became somewhat simplified, as if an entire layer of hidden detail had been removed. Even the smell’s had dulled themselves. Damien felt a cool breeze, looking downwards at his now completely naked body.   
“HAHGH!” he yelped in surprise, throwing his hands over his groin.  
“NotWhatIMeantAtAll” the words spilled out quickly as he rushed over to the armoire that held his clothing. Damien was unlike many people in that he felt more comfortable the more covered he was. He had always been interested in masks and helmets of all kinds, even having a small collection just to the side of his room. Most nights, after a shower when he was clean and relaxed, he chose a mask at random and would simply wear it for the remainder of the night.

He threw his armoire open, the many pairs of underwear, long-sleeved shirts, and shorts all stacked in neat piles. Before he could throw a hand out to grasp a pair, any pair, He felt a peculiar itch along his thighs that spread to his lower back. Damien looked down at his groin which was now a form fitting black layer of protection, just as his full body had been moments ago.   
“okay you have the right idea,” he chuckled.   
“but people wear clothes” he emphasized the word, hefting a pair of shorts and dangling them in front of himself. There was silence, no snide remark or comeback as the alien that inhabited both within and throughout his body readjusted itself. The goo pooled out from his skin, collecting itself along his waist and chest. Within seconds Damien found himself wearing an opaque white shirt that cut itself cleanly just below his shoulders, and a pair of shorts as black as tar that found themselves dangling at his knees. He rubbed the material between his thumb an index finger, It appeared to be somewhere between cotton and polyester perhaps? It almost felt wet, or damp. He tugged at the waistline of the shorts and they moved freely, a newfound freedom that he found himself missing after the somewhat naked feeling of his second skin that had enveloped his entire body. Both forms held benefits, one being especially incognito while the other seeming to fill a void that he did not quite know needed filling. Damien found himself petting the shirt affectionately, likely an odd sight from any other perspective but the symbiote had its benefits, and Damien had begun to feel for it.   
“I gotta say, this is pretty fucking cool” he laughed loudly.   
“Can you do long sleeved?” he asked out loud to what seemed like nobody in particular. The short sleeves of the shirt slid down his arm, ending just below his wrist. Damien grasped the sleeve opening and pulled it just to his thumb, the fabric did not resist and stretched in a similar manner to one separating pieces of chewed gum. He pushed his thumb through the fabric which gave way with nearly no force applied as it reformed into a sort of glove almost. Damien did the same to the other sleeve and marveled at the creation he found himself wearing.   
“Styx,” he stopped at the name, feeling unsure whether that technically referred to the being that inhabited his body or specifically the name of their union.   
[I am Styx.] the words sounded quietly as Damien could hear them just behind, as if someone spoke directly into his ears. Damien felt a sensation that teetered between familiar and altogether new as his vision sharpened and the world became clearer.   
[We are **_Phobos_**] the words resounded across his entire body as Damien felt an understanding, a clarity, he had never encountered before that had been equally paired with an unfamiliar confusion at the different name.

"Okay, you're gonna have to explain that one to me a little more bud." The host said, rolling the new name in his mouth.   
"Phobos" Damien stated plainly as in a similar manner to before, new memories began to flood into his mind; but this time it was different, these thoughts drifted smoothly like a river.

______________________________________________

Styx had no particular recollection of their parent, many in the Klyntar race simply choosing to abandon progeny that had not been produced intentionally. The black and white goo had very little understanding of Earth or really how humans worked, having never even been bonded to a living creature only hours after its birth. The ooze floated across the riverbed it had somehow found its way into, overtaken by curiosity and the occasional drifting thought of what it would soon understand to be hunger.

A rather old man by the standards of Ancient Greece approached the rushing water of the river. He bent over and cupped his hands, dipping them into the cool fluid; its deep blue color refreshing against his calloused hands. The man had only been alive just short of seventy years but many did not have the luxury of reaching his age. The man squatted for a moment before plopping into a seated position, having folded the back waist of his linen chiton below his rear in an effort to pad his seating. The clothing material was sometimes not the most comfortable to the touch, and he knew he could easily acquire a higher quality silk outfit due to his social status, finances... and the fact that his wife was considered one of the best textile seamstresses in all of Phthia. He preferred the 'lower' quality of the linen over other materials simply due to how much less pretentious he wore when attending social gatherings.

The man kicked his feet in the water, unknowingly only a few meters downriver from a rather confused and hungry alien blob. The nameless alien brushed by the man's foot, its own biology lighting up sensations it couldn't even understand. Just before it could move out of reach the black and white ooze latched on to the foot of the innocent man. He looked down in confusion and attempted to brush the creature off. The sensation of inconvenience quickly grew into panic and then terror as whatever had attached itself to him began to expand and essentially swallow the living tissue. The man began to scream in a combination of fear and pain as he could feel the muscles and skin below the creature melt away as if they were being digested. The creature continued growing, only now understanding that it had felt hunger and this was moving that feeling away.

The man continued screaming, pleading even as both legs withered into nothingness. His cries weakened into a wet gurgling as the sheer pressure of the monster consuming his lower torso forced blood into his lungs and out his mouth. The alien did not know for sure what killed the man first, the suffocation or the digestion of his internal organs; but it didn't care, it saw nothing more than food and had yet to understand that living creatures were not to be eaten in their entirety but rather 'milked' for their resources which would essentially lead to an infinite supply of sustenance.

It didn't take too long for the body, or what was left of the pile of partially rotted skin and meat to be discovered. The alien that had eaten the man had considered returning and surrendering to the river current but ultimately decided to wait just below the rushing water nearby in hopes of encountering more food. The goo sat clinging to the bottom of the river for months, the number of Earth inhabitants choosing to come into contact with the water diminishing over time; as if the _humans_ had learned to communicate the danger of the immediate area. Every time the alien drained another human of all of their sweet sweet body mass they would occasionally catch a glimpse of a memory... words, names, entire memories. They had come to form an understanding that the waters they resided below had come to be referred to as a portion of the River Styx manifested in the overworld. A place that these humans in their primitive religion had believed originated in a whole separate world below their own that could only be accessed through death. Their beliefs had stated the river was to be used to cross over to what was essentially a place of eternal rest. The details did not seem to concern the creature who affectionately began to refer to itself as Styx.

The nearby of city of Phthia would send multitudes of others to the river over the following months. Soldiers to attack out of fear, priests to commune with 'The Gods', _children _in hopes of appeasing the entity itself.

A woman approached the river cautiously. She had short black hair and a rounded nose; Styx clung to the bottom of the river, the black and white creature mildly excited at the prospect of another meal. It had learned to drain its victims slower and examine their memories in a more thorough manner, becoming slowly more interested in the biological facets of the inhabitants of the planet.

The woman appeared to be sad, but it was difficult for the creature to read emotions. She held a child close to her body, it appeared to be just old enough to walk without assistance.   
"Έλα, Αχιλλέας."{Come on, Achilles.} She sputtered out, stifling the beginnings of a sob. Styx knew what was coming next, the woman was likely forced to bring her child as an offering like so many others. Styx originally had no issue with the consumption of humans of any kind, but after learning of their tragically short life cycle they had developed a hesitation with those they considered too young. Styx shifted just below the surface of the water as the woman approached the edges of the river in what could only be perceived as anxiety. The woman couldn't help but let a few tears escape her eyes and drift down each cheek, the child could sense some sort of unhappiness but did not have the mental ability to understand what was happening.   
"Αντιο σας  
" {Goodbye.} The woman grasped her child by the ankle as he began to flail his arms and legs in a tantrum. She inhaled deeply, the strength of her conviction greater than that of her emotion.

The child screamed as the woman lowered him headfirst into the water. Styx felt the human child gurgle beneath the water and flowed to him. They flowed themselves over his body just like they had done to so many others, but they forced themselves not to simply consume the boy but inhabit his very biology. The woman Styx had come to understand was the boy's mother yelped in fear and surprise as the 'river' flowed upwards and across every inch of the boy's skin. She released the boy unexpectedly as the goo approached the very last portion it had yet to cover. Styx could sense the child's mind was a series of scattered emotions with only the beginnings of truly coherent thought, they ignored this for a moment and forced the contraction of various muscles across the body; Styx awkwardly moved the meatsack like a newly minted puppetmaster. The boy flailed in the water as the black and white ooze sunk beneath his skin. The river itself was not particularly deep but it was more than enough to drown an inexperienced swimmer. After several more awkward tugs of various muscles Styx began to comprehend the form of locomotion humans seemed to use. They swam to the river's edge, crawling out and releasing their control over the child's body. Styx watched silently, essentially piggybacking off of the boy's own senses. The woman sobbed wildly, clutching the coughing hosts body to her own chest and wildly thanking various gods.

Styx remained below the child's exterior for years, only vaguely communicating with him through the occasional forced thought at most. The boy had been believed to have become invulnerable in 'repayment' by the god of the River Styx. The citizens had rejoiced, having been relieved by the newfound harmlessness of the nearby river that had plagued them for so many months. They felt they had been rewarded with a great soldier, a great man. Styx was unsure how much their host actually knew of their relationship, having caught the boy occasionally talking to nobody in particular or even testing the limits of his believed to be superhuman body. Styx learned with the boy over the following years; healing wounds, enhancing reflexes, and even becoming a living armor for the legendary man. Styx had forced themself to never pull control from their host, deeply fearing rejection or expulsion from their source of food and eventual companionship.

Achilles had become a soldier of legend; It was believed they were impervious to all forms of damage and possibly even a demigod. Styx knew they still had a lot to learn about the human body and even their own biology, having not ever met another of their own species but firmly believing there were others on earth. Tales of gods and demigods were rampant across Greece; men who could slay invulnerable lions, entities of lightning or water, dozens of stories and myths that just like Achilles must have had the occasional spotting of truth.   
Styx had never felt fear, they didn't even know if their own biology was capable of such an emotion... that was, until Achilles saw the walls of Troy for the first time. It was only a fleeting second, the smallest unit of time they had ever perceived filled with the very teasing of fear. A fear of mortality, a fear of unimportance in comparison to the grand walls before them. The unbreachable city of legend had stood before the pair. Achilles had pushed the sensation away, burying it where even Styx could not reach. The pair fought alongside hundreds of other soldiers, each with their own unique armor that represented where they had come from or the family they represented. Achilles's very presence provided an unshakeable morale the men surrounding them touted towards hopes of victory. Styx aided every movement their host made, doubling the strength of every blow, allowing him to run faster than any other man.

The men had erupted in thunderous cheers upon the defeat of what was believed to have been Troy's greatest and most honorable warrior... a man known as Hector. They had watched the family grieve as Achilles stood over the bloody body of their city's champion. The war had continued and Achilles's legend of invulnerability only continued to grow. The belief that the walls were impenetrable grew less and less plausible by the day. Through the completely dishonorable tactic of feigning surrender another man had concocted a plan to sneak themselves into the city.   
Achilles led the charge, opening the doors from the inside and finally seeing the fall of Troy. Styx collected themselves behind the breastplate and helmet their host wore; desperately wanting to assure they would not be discovered but also providing even more protection over the man's most vital organs. Swords and arrows flew, occasionally piercing the metal but not the man below. Some ran in fear, some charged in anger, but all fell before Achilles.   
Styx could only sense the beginnings of what they believed to be joy, not at the slaughter of so many lives but at the fact they had never felt more in tune and more at one with their host than just at that moment. Unfortunately, as Styx would soon learn, good things don't last.

Styx had collected the majority of their rather diminutive mass into protecting the most vital parts of their host's body. They knew that the combination of years of combat, the enhanced biology they had bestowed upon Achilles, and their ability to place themselves over any portion of the man's body if it were ever to actually be damaged should have been more than enough protection.   
An arrow soared through the air like so many others, its weak arc and pathetic trajectory all but guaranteed to miss its target. Achilles barreled forward, assaulting yet another target before him, his defensive and agile flip spinning him through the air in a manner most humans could only dream of. The arrow connected with its target just as the man landed. The placement of the arrow in his ankle and the surprise of feeling actual pain for the first time in years causing his balance to give out, forcing him to the floor. Achilles instinctively tore the arrow from his foot, crimson blood spurting into the air as Styx rushed to close the injury. The wound should have meant nothing to either of them... but Achilles could already feel his heart beating faster than it should have been.   
"Κώνειο." {Hemlock} His gruff voice mumbled as he began to breathe faster. Styx immediately sensed the effects of what had been introduced to their body. The efferent nerves they had once used to save Achilles as a boy now refused to fire. All signals from his brain and spine began to slow as paralysis set in. Styx began to experience panic as their host's mind began to grow cloudier. The alien had always refused to push itself further into Achilles's body out of fear the man would reject their union, but this was an emergency. Styx folded inward from behind the breastplate, leaving the man's exterior vulnerable. They connected themselves to every nerve, muscle fiber, and organ, they could, essentially bridging themselves across the man's body. Every inch they grew was more mass they had to produce, in order to save their other, they had to kill their other. Achilles's body sat on the battlefield, slowly growing unrecognizable among the dozens of other dead surrounding them. His skin sunk inwards and his muscles shrunk as the bleeding of his wound slowed and Styx continued absorbing all the unnecessary mass they could in an effort to force the nerves around the vital organs to continue firing. Styx fought to pump the body's heart and breathe through their lungs, a losing battle as they sensed the last moment of their host's consciousness.

There were no final words, no goodbyes, nothing. Achilles slipped between the barrier of life and death as Styx finally relaxed in defeat. The man was dead, their first host had left them alone in this world and it was all due to their own negligence, a mistake they told themselves they would never make again. Styx flexed the corpse they inhabited, the deceased Achilles's body now a sunken desiccated husk. Styx was not sure if what they were feeling was anger, but they knew they hated whoever had done this. They bubbled to the surface of their deceased other's corpse, finally revealing themselves to the world. Achilles's skin alongside the left of his body grew covered in a haunting ebony black that even Hades would have feared, and a white brighter than Apollo's eyes on the right. The body jerked and seized as Styx pulled various muscles across the body. Achilles's hands folded into fists as the goo covered them and formed into massive inhuman claws. The bones, tendons, and ligaments, snapped audibly across the entire body as they contorted in bizarre and dangerous ways. Styx pulled the body into a standing position, their towering form close to the three meters tall.

Soldiers pointed and screamed, the fearful sight of the monster before them causing many to simply drop their weapons and run. Trojans and Greeks alike began to target the monster on the battlefield. Styx jerked the body they piloted without any sense of grace. The zombified monstrosity began to tear through scores of men, ripping and tearing limbs from those that even attempted to fight. The black and white flesh that had been just over the mouth of their host began to split open as they forced their jaw downwards. With a wet tearing, both from their own mouth and the bodies they destroyed. Styx opened their mouth for the first time, the black and white maw of the creature lined with dozens of tightly packed monstrous fangs. Each tooth alternated between a black and a white color, but all of them were quickly covered in the red hue of human blood as they angrily bit down into another victim.

"Φοβός!" {Phobos!} Some men cried out, believing the monster to be the physical incarnation of their god of fear. Styx heard the name, repeating it in a roar. Screaming with a voice that shook the very air it past through.   
"**Είμαι η ενσάρκωση του φόβου  
!!!**" {I AM THE EMBODIMENT OF FEAR} The destroyer screamed. Men continued to run both towards and away from Phobos. They left dozens of bodies in a bloody mess behind them.

Styx continued their rampage, claiming to be the source of all of their fears. Telling all of those who lived, all of those running that they had awoken the god of fear. That any time any of them ever felt trepidation, any sense of dread, any nightmare, they would be there.

______________________________________________

Damien felt his second face retract to its hidden position within his body and he headed towards the door, his stomach rumbling louder than ever before. Damien had never intentionally hurt anyone, not really. He had always considered himself a borderline pacifist. It had only been a few days since he bonded with the alien he had come to know as Styx. In such a short time he felt as if he had reached an entirely new stage in his life that he never dreamed he would feel. Damien had always felt lonely, a feeling many struggle with and some manage to assuage. At one point in his life he even believed it had been cured; until it all came crashing down. However, at this point, it was as if he would never feel that way again. Damien absently pet the fabric of his sleeve, a sort of comforting maneuver he found himself doing more and more. From what he had gathered, Damien found himself attempting to meditate more and more. It allowed a sort of mental middle-ground between himself and his other in which no words were needed but they could exchange thoughts and feelings. Damien had found that he had not truly slept since his bonding, it felt… unnecessary.

He stood from the rug where he had been sitting entranced, moving the small coffee table back to its original position. Up until this point, Damien had been feeling hungry and consuming significantly more food than he had in years. He had established that he was ‘eating for two’, a common phrase referring to those who required a larger caloric intake when pregnant. His figure had slimmed down, an unhealthy amount of weight loss in such a short timeframe for the human body, however Damien knew that it was due to his other consuming large quantities of fatty deposits; bringing his body to a much more efficient standing in a way, yet just past what most would consider optimal and more into a bit of an unnatural thinness that accentuated each and every one of his bones. There was one thing that still eluded him, a craving of some sort that he could not quite place. It was only until a thorough internet search of his symptoms and an interesting ‘conversation’ of sorts with his other that he came upon the realization that the symbiote beneath his skin had been sustaining itself off of a peculiar little neurotransmitter that had a significant impact in the human body. Damien crumbled a nearby piece of paper into a ball and disposed of it in the trash bin beneath his sink. The chemical of Phenethylamine was ultimately not too hard to find in large synthetic quantities but Damien had yet to do so. He found himself interested in… natural alternatives.

Damien approached the front door and stepped outside, the night air still significantly warmer than he would have liked. The Miami heat rarely dipped below 90 degrees, even during the later hours such as at that moment. Damien had been mentally preparing himself, pep-talking even, into attempting something quite daring. He followed the path around the back of his parent’s home, who would long be asleep at the hour of midnight. He stepped out onto the street, a poorly maintained asphalt that had not been cared for in years. Without so much as bothering to look around, he forced himself into a sprint. The all too human feelings of fatigue or pain ceasing in existence as his other enveloped his body. One hand now black as coal, the other an immaculate and angelic white. Damien threw himself into the air, his long legs and enhanced musculature fighting against earth’s gravity as he rose more than 20 feet at a minimum, before crashing back down to the road in an awkward sprint. He attempted so again, this time fully clearing the tree line of his neighborhood and for just a brief moment catching a glimpse of the Miami skyline. The glass laden buildings polluting the sky with thousands upon thousands of lumens. He had no true destination, but felt pulled towards the many buildings of downtown. Damien had never been an athletic person, finding no true satisfaction in such activities. However through the removal of his human limitations he felt a glee and freedom that he had never encountered before. Within minutes he had cleared dozens of miles, faster than any car he could have driven would have been - mostly due to traffic. The city streets appeared quiet, not quite deserted but certainly not bustling like the common depiction of films. Damien had been moving fast enough that he was nothing more than a blur, the inhuman speed and agility disguising his very existence.

Damien clung to one of the skyscrapers, an office building of some sort. He peered inside, it appeared dark save for a few cubicles that held those who had been forced to work late. An unfortunate side effect of the capitalistic machine they inhabited. Damien worked in unison with his other; such grandiose movements such as running or jumping being fully under his control, yet the support he felt of clinging to the sleek and unforgiving surface of the glass was dictated by his other. A unison that neither could function fully perform on their own. The perverted goal sat in his mind, it was somewhat unclear if such an act was purely concocted of his own wants or encouraged by the uninhibited desires of his other. Damien searched the grounds beneath, the dirty and litter riddled sidewalk. He had passed several homeless people throughout his endeavor but had mentally marked them as thoroughly off limits.   
“No, no we need someone who deserves it” he mumbled as he pushed off the glass wall with just a tad too much force. The laminated glass cracked aggressively leaving a disturbingly large footprint as evidence of what had lain there. The angular outline of each foot appearing to have three ‘toes’ in the front and one in the back. Somewhat similar to that of a bird in some ways, allowing a strong support while negating any pressure at the center of the extremity.

Damien soared through the air, having still not quite become used to the feeling of gravity bringing the sensation of his stomach in his throat. He landed with a nigh silent thud peered deeply to his rear and front. His stomach protested quietly, anxious about the movement but also voicing its interest in what was to come. He prowled down the street in a confusingly casual manner. His body language shifting from predator to prey as the several extra feet in height his alternative form delivered shrank back into that of a human. His once alien skin now visibly human, for the most part. Damien hunched, forcing himself and his body language to appear staggered and nervous, a far cry from the adrenaline he felt internally.

“If I can’t find a victim… I’ll just be the victim” he mumbled to himself, having become used to talking quietly behind his second face. Damien walked several blocks, watching as the occasional car passed harmlessly and his mind wandered to the comical thoughts of some famous super-heroes in media encountering violent crime at a whim. The further he traveled the more impatient he felt himself become. Without the oh so human limitations of fatigue or pain, Damien could walk forever. His other constantly monitoring any change, both negative or positive within his body. Damien travelled between alleyways, across monorail stations and passed the hundreds of closed stores that shuttered themselves every night. Damien had determined he would not cease his hunt until he was forced to, until sunrise. A nearby store displayed its large LED digital clock proudly, only half past 2. He stared at the storefront, one of the few non-shuttered buildings of the downtown commercial area. Damien felt something sharp press against his left flank, just above his pelvis and to the left of his spinal column. He had been so lost in his thoughts he had failed to take in his surroundings. Damien instinctively began to turn around before feeling his skin break and a sharp pain sting throughout the area.

“Turn around and I’m gonna fucking stab you kid.” The tone was erratic, itchy almost. Damien felt the blade press harder against his skin, digging into the newly formed injury and painfully tickling what he could only assume was his kidney. For just a moment Damien felt fear, his confidence and aggression faded in an instant leaving solely a 22-year-old boy and the reality of his own mortality.   
[Safe] a familiar voice snapped Damien back to reality.  
“Give me your fucking wallet right now or I swear to god I will gut you.” The man coughed out. Damien inferred that the man was likely middle aged, sounding no more than 50 years old. Spending years outside exposed to the elements aged the human body faster than most. The metal dug into his body once more and he returned to the present. Damien slowly brought his hands to his waist, sliding them along the typical location of where clothing held their pockets. The seamless fabric never giving way to any sort of pocket equivalent.

“oops. No wallet” Damien enunciated in a mocking tone, a smile creeping up the corners of his ever so slightly too wide mouth. He felt an aggressive exhale down against his shoulder, the man clearly being shorter than Damien’s already uncommon height. He felt a hand spastically slap the sides of his shorts, rapidly looking for any sort of hidden location or bulge that would indicate a wallet. Damien began turning around once more, allowing the blade to tease just along his skin, slicing a somewhat large laceration from his flank to his belly until he faced the man. Damien felt no pain, only pressure from the weapon, a mild numbness protecting the very outer layer of his body.

“look man.” He said plainly as Damien finally collected his assaulters face. An unkempt beard that had grown just past the man’s chin covered the majority of his face below the nose.   
“I got a rule against killing homeless people so I’m gonna give you a chance to leave.” The confidence and superiority in Damien’s voice would likely have made anyone think he was insane considering the predicament he found himself in.

“listen here fucker.” He pushed the knife in just past the tip, no less than half an inch, forcing a surprised wince out of Damien.   
“Either I am going to fucking stab you right the fuck now, or you’re going to give me your fucking wallet!” The words shot into the air alongside globules of wet saliva. Damien couldn’t help but cough impolitely at the man’s breath. It smelled of rot and disease.

[Now?] The voice asked as Damien shook his head in response.   
“Not Yet.” He mumbled to himself.

“What did you just say?” the man asked in exasperation, almost visibly juggling the idea of murdering someone rather than escaping.   
“Youknowwhat, fuck you” the man pressed the blade in with a grunt. It was likely he had never done so before as he pushed much harder than he actually needed to. The inexperience he held with his assault was plain to see but no less horrifying.

Damien had never felt real pain. Not the kind that people read about or show in movies. The blade entered his body in an anxious manner, tearing in awkward motions as it tore through his liver. The pain itself was dull and vague on the inside, but hot and terrifying on the outside. Damien instinctively clutched his abdomen, his attacker stunned at the action he had just performed.  
“waitNOshIT” he almost screamed. The reality of his actions setting in as he watched his victim drop to his knees and double over with a wheeze. The man watched as the boy grew silent, his erratic breathing ceasing within less than a minute. The man had let go of the blade, its body still embedded within Damien.   
“I didn’t really want to kill nobody, wh-“ he coughed and looked around wildly   
“why didn’t you just give me your fuckin wallet” his voice choked. Within seconds he had completed the grim deed, the life of a human being permanently stained within his psyche. The night sky and lack of artificial lighting made it difficult to see much detail, but the man watched as the hole within his prey oozed a black substance he could only assume was blood, that is, until the fluid began leaking a much lighter color too. He stood stunned for a moment, contemplating running from the scene but was somewhat entranced by the bizarre situation he found himself in. He felt a cold sweat tingle across his entire body, suddenly frozen in uncertainty and possibly even fear. He watched intently as the still corpse twitched slightly, then began to seize violently on the ground.

Damien felt the pain subside rather quickly, yet was more than acutely aware of the somewhat large hole just around his waist. He felt his muscles and tendons stitch themselves back together silently. The ooze that collected around his body began to cling to his body in a familiar sensation as he bent himself at an odd angle. His bones and joints cracked audibly as Damien threw his legs outward and twisted his abdomen around. The front of his lower body faced upwards just as the front of his lower body faced towards the ground. The goo enveloped the rest of his body in an instant, completing his transformation into the superhuman being once believed to be Phobos. With several more audible pops and cracks that could only be compared to that of bones breaking and rearranging themselves he pulled himself into a sort of inverted half bridge stance. Damien’s murderer had been frozen unmoving throughout the moments it took for the embodiment of fear before him to achieve proper form. The blacks and blues of the night lighting had been replaced by crystal clear illumination in Damien… no. _Phobos's _eye lenses. Phobos pushed one arm in front of the other, slowly at first towards the man that they now saw as their prey.

The man placed one foot behind him, both hands up and palms towards the creature before him in as nonthreatening of a stance he could manage. His other foot followed, and for every step he took backwards, the nightmare fuel before him took two steps forward.

Phobos turned their head slightly, almost curiously before pushing themselves upwards and back into a standing position. They turned to face the man who they now towered over, standing an impossible 8 feet tall. Their arms dangling just below their knees, each finger excessively long. The very appearance and disproportionality of such a creature causing the human brain to send waves of discomfort throughout. Phobos extended an arm towards the man, who in response turned tail and began sprinting as fast as his body would allow. His old and improperly managed biology fighting him every step of the way. Phobos leaned forward, each step clearing more distance than the man could sprint in seconds. They planted a massive hand across his body, their middle finger and thumb managing to nearly span his entire torso. Phobos forced the man to stand still, leaning over at a nearly 90 degree angle and inhaling deeply and audibly.

The man smelled of fear. Phobos could almost taste it; the air had been tainted with the scent of sweat and dread. It was almost as if the mugger had known what awaited him, not a difficult thing to assume considering his predicament. He stood, mouth open and wordlessly stumbling along several sounds that just might have, in a certain order, almost formulated a sentence. Phobos shifted their lower jaw, the skin that covered it moving peacefully with it. Phobos inhaled the scent of their prey once more, a decision being made. The lowered their jaw until it felt taught, not quite fully open but somewhat held back. As if the very skin was preventing an opening. Phobos forced their jaw down once more, further this time. They pushed until they felt a peculiar hint of discomfort akin to an overstretched muscle just along the host body’s lips. The skin tore. The white and black behemoth continued the process, a discomforting squelching sounding as the membrane separated more and more. Phobos ripped through the flesh of their own body until they felt the warm air of the night against the mouth below. The tattered remains of what had once covered the smooth face dangled wetly in front of the needle like teeth. Phobos felt themselves smile for the first time, A joy of freedom.

The corners of their maw curled upwards into a haunting smile as the man within their grasp began screaming. His shrieks of terror landing upon uncaring ears as Phobos slipped two almost tentacle like appendages from their mouth. Two separate tongues, one white and one black slid across the face of their terrified victim. They slurped the flavors down as copious amounts of saliva dripped from their jaws.   
“You areeee” they lingered on each word, the celestial voice sounding hellish in nature.   
“delicious” they gulped down another swash of saliva that had been tainted with the man’s flavors. Phobos lifted the man from his feet with little effort, placing one massive hand on each of his sides.   
“IT is Timeee” they voiced as the massive jaw of the creature engulfed their meal’s head. Each needle like tooth connected with the bare flesh of the man’s neck, his screams muffled by the endless cavern that surrounded him. Phobos did not need to apply much effort, the brittle skin severing easily. The screaming stopped shortly after and was replaced only by wet gurgling and then silence as the spinal column gave way. Phobos dropped the body to the ground and chewed the dense skull of their meal. The bone fragmented wildly as they chewed, Damien’s mind beneath couldn’t help but compare the meal to a blow pop. The hard-encased candy of a lollipop hiding the soft and chewy brain within. Phobos felt the wet jelly like organ of a brain spread across their tongues. Both equally happy with the meal yet also mildly discomforted by the gooey texture Damien so very much disliked. Phobos felt as if a need had been fulfilled, a itch had been scratched. They stood unbothered by any outside forces as they swallowed the last bit of the treat they had never known they wanted so bad. A nagging feeling chipped away as the human beneath was keenly aware that they had just consumed a human being, but the irksome sense slowly faded after the full experience.

Phobos looked down at their feet, where the rest of the body lay. A large pool of dark red blood had been pooling all around their toes and had begun staining the white of their foot. They looked around the immediate area, considering many solutions. A nearby trashcan stood out as a possibility, the very mental image of a human body casually tossed into public waste disposal causing a minor chuckle that would have caused most humans to pee themselves at the very concept of. Phobos inspected the body, finally coming to a decision. They retrieved the corpse and firmly placed a foot on the torso, grasping each arm. With a light tug and a loud squelching and squishing sound, the skin tore and the arms had both been severed just above the elbow. Phobos placed both arms beneath their armpit after removing any remaining clothing and jewelry, leaving only the bare skin. The headless, and armless body laid in a visceral mess on the side of the road where Phobos lifted it and crumbled it with both hands. The legs and torso fought against the unnatural positions the creature pushed them into until the ligaments gave way and allowed a once full sized adult human body to now comfortably fit just within a trashcan. Phobos wiped their hands off out of some sort of human habit before taking their prizes and setting back towards their home.

Epilogue:

Damien arrived to his humble abode, shrinking back to nothing more than the unassuming human many thought he was. He could not hear his other say anything but could feel all of the happiness and euphoria is reveled in after their night out. Something had changed between them, something had bonded them closer than ever. Damien ran a tongue along his teeth. What had once been flattened chompers meant for the grinding of fibrous vegetables and meat were now just sharp and pointed enough to make most people question the reality of what they were seeing; Damien glanced momentarily at a semi-hidden glass jar that held all of his old human teeth from when they had fallen out before the new ones grew in. His tongue danced along the tip of each bone like projection as a smile found its way on to his face.   
“It’ll be harder to hide myself now but I don’t even care” he mumbled to his other as he walked down the long dark hallway that appeared as bright as day to his enhanced eyes.

Damien opened the freezer and allowed its light to bounce off of his now unnaturally pale skin. The two severed arms from his first kill just weeks ago sat casually wrapped in a thin layer of plastic. Styx had insisted on eating them shortly after they pulled them off of the man but Damien had insisted he wanted to try to prepare them _properly_. He reached in and lifted both, holding them tightly within his grasp and noting that each weighed several pounds but but required next to no effort to hold. Damien had finally found something he enjoyed, something he could revel in. Fear. The fear of others in particular. He wanted nothing more than to push the very limits of just how scared someone could be; at first he questioned if that was due to his other's influence but almost immediately thought about how little it actually mattered.

He plopped the arms on to the countertop just next to his stovetop\oven combination. The oven dinged loudly as he set the temperature to preheat it. Damien produced a cutting board from one of the cabinets and placed it on the free space he allotted for it. Both arms had been leaking from their stumps when he first collected them but he and his other chose to not let the fluid go to waste. The coppery and metallic flavor was something that Damien had always loved, even prior to their union. He had never had it in such large quantities, only fought the occasional craving over the years. His fear of contracting some sort of disease or tainted fluid by consuming the blood of anyone else besides his own now completely needless. The frozen arms sat on the large cutting board, clearly too big to be properly handled on such a surface.   
[Food!] the voice called in excitement.   
“oh yes hun,” the endearing term slipped out.  
“but if we're gonna eat someone, we're going to at least do it right. Just because I’m a cannibal now doesn’t mean we can’t be civilized”

Damien grasped the arms, one in each hand.   
“okay, new deal. You get the hands; I get the rest.” Damien felt a squirming beneath his skin as his true face enveloped his head. The same process followed through as had before, their face not inherently having an open mouth and requiring a bit of force. The pair now joined together and known as Phobos opened a nearby drawer and retrieved the only kitchen knife within the entire room, slicing open a clean line and opening his jaw fully, much less aggressively than before. It was as if the symbiote wished to cover as much of its host’s body as possible. Any inch not engulfed was a loss of some sort. Phobos brought the hand to their face, place the finger all the way to the base of the knuckle within their mouth and bit downward, snapping it cleanly off. Damien had read that human fingers could be separated with no more force than a carrot stick being broken, but it was much more gruesome to perform the act oneself. 9 fingers later and two meaty palms down Styx receded back into Damien’s body. The remaining meat of the arms now laying on the previously white cutting board. Damien used the knife he held and began working at the meaty logs. Slicing them in half long ways, it required little effort due to his enhanced strength and he placed all four halves on to the tin foil laden cooking sheet. With a ding the oven announced the completion of its preheating and Damien placed the thoroughly seasoned meat within.  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I cannot express how much I appreciate it.


End file.
